I knew it
by kimco
Summary: Grantaire always knew Enjolras was an angel. A story of a mortal and a messenger from heaven. E/R
1. Angels

**I really, really, REALLY shouldn't be starting ANOTHER story. This time I have no excuse, but I PROMISE I shall finish my other stories. I PROMISE! (feel free to remind me)**

Enjolras' POV

The world around us is dying. As helpless human beings cry themselves to sleep, starving to death in the cold winter snow. The rich men and women of the world never look twice at them. Why would they? Their lives are perfectly fine. Little do they know that every few seconds, a homeless beggar is put to the grave all because of poverty? Is that right?

There's a reason I'm here. Everyone has a purpose. Even angels. My purpose however, is probably not quite like yours. You see, you may not even know your own purpose yet, whilst mine is as clear as day in my own eyes. God once whispered in my ear. He told me that sometimes the world is just too weak to help itself. He asked me to guide our world to freedom.

Long story short, he told me to save France. Patria, as it were. He gave me permission to visit Earth. Obviously not in my angel form. That would be utterly ridiculous. I must go under the name 'Enjolras'. Spelt with an E-N and L between the O and R. It's my duty to god to start a revolution to free France. To speak for the people. To fight for the right to be free.

I wonder, would god still return my love by the time I return home?

…

Grantaire's POV

My life is a never ending pit of despair. Sometimes I wonder why god brought me into this world. Does god know that half the men and women he creates turn out like drunk cynical bastards like me? Perhaps it'd be best if I was wiped off the face of the earth. I'm just kind of a waste of air. I drink all night and sleep all day. What kind of a life is that?

I stood out on the streets, board out of my mind. The sun had gone to bed about two hours ago. These days I have nothing to do with my life, so I just spend my time watching the night sky pass by. The stars out there are the most beautiful things I've ever seen. They shine so bright, but by the time the sun comes out; they disappear along with the darkness.

I let out a sigh as the sky began to drop down sad tears of rain. The moonlight reflected off the puddles, making them look like pools of diamonds. As I start my journey back to my apartment, I noticed something rather peculiar. I man in a red jacket sat with his back against the wall of a rundown café. He sat in the rain as it continued to pour down like there was no tomorrow.

The man had bright, yet ice-cold blue eyes that you couldn't help but stare at. His golden curls of hair reminded me of the rays of the sun. The kind of sun that only heaven got their eyes on. His beauty was almost unreal. If it were possible for a man to glow, he would be. I couldn't help but wonder why a man such as him would be out in the dark, alone. He seemed somewhat, confused, or perhaps just lost.

I stood still for a while. After a moment of hesitation, I approached the man. He looked even more angelic when seen from up close. His skin was pale but beautiful. I then cleared my throat and said, "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" the man said, blinking his eyes and turning his head to me as though he'd just woken from a trance.

"…Are you okay?" I repeated.

"Well, um…yeah." He said in a strange manner.

I raised an eyebrow. "…Are you lost?" The man shook his head. He wore perfectly clean clothes and an 'expensive' looking jacket, so I was guessing her wasn't homeless. Perhaps he was a runaway or something. There was an awkward silence. I then said, "Where's your home?"

The man smiled, although, I'm not sure why. "Oh, far away from here." The man looked at me. It's strange. A man sitting on the streets can dress better than me. There's something terribly wrong with that sentence. "What about you?"

I shrugged, "What about me?"

"Do you have a bed to sleep in tonight?" he asked. Is that a strange way of asking if I'm homeless or not?

"…Yeah."

The man smiled. "Good…"

There was another silence. This man, everything about him intrigued me. His look, his voice, the way he smiled. Why was he here? I guess it was none of my business… but you can't help but wonder. "So…do you?"

"Do I…"

"Have somewhere to go. Were you planning on sleeping on the streets?" I asked.

The man shrugged. "I wasn't '_planning_' anything." He said. "I don't like planning. I just take the day as it comes."

I smirked. That was…somewhat an amusing response to the question. "Hey, if you don't have a place to stay for the night, you could sleep on my couch."

The man looked up at me for a second, studying me. A smile graced his lips. "Well…that's awfully kind of you, but I couldn't…"

I stuffed my hands into my pockets. "Well you seem like a nice human being." The man laughed again, although I haven't a clue why. "I want to help you out."

The man looked at me again and said, "…Okay. I'll take the offer for one night, then I'll be out of your life forever." I smirked.

"Agreed." I gave the man a hand up. His hands were freezing cold. Perhaps it was just the rain that made them as cool as ice…but perhaps not. As we walked towards my apartment, I said, "I never got your name."

"That's because I didn't give it to you." He said.

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled. "Okay then. What's your name?"

"…Enjolras." He said. He sounded slightly hesitant. "And you are?"

"Grantaire." I said back.

**To be continued!**

**Comments are loved as always! :)**


	2. Hospital

**Recently I have grown a strange obsession with angels, so this had to be written. Don't judge.**

_I'm an angel with a shotgun,_

_Fighting 'til the wars won,_

_I don't care if heaven won't take me back (The cab. Angel with a shotgun)_

Grantaire POV

The next morning, I stumbled into my front room to find that Enjolras had already gone. It was as if he was never even there in the first place. He'd left a small, neatly folded note on the sofa where he'd slept. I slowly walked over and scooped up the letter. His writing was neat and flawless. It was basically a simple version of calligraphy. The ink was tattooed perfectly onto the white parchment paper.

_Dear Monsieur Grantaire,_

_I thank you for giving shelter when a man was in need. A world like this needs more men that would do the same. Thank you Monsieur, for having a heart such as yours. You are a good man and I shall forever respect that. I hope you go to heaven Monsieur. Perhaps we shall meet again someday, but then again, perhaps not._

_God bless you,_

_Enjolras_

And just like that, the man was forever out of my life…or so I thought at the time.

…

Enjolras POV

Mortals. Mortals were born with the inability to speak for themselves. That's my judgement on it anyway. Although, there are people out there who could prove me wrong. Jean Maximilien Lamarque, for example. He is the people's man. Loved by the people because he accepts the chances the future may offer. Lamarque was and still is a great man. If all men could speak for themselves, imagine what the world would be like. Perfect perhaps…then again, some things are better left unsaid.

I stood in the hall of one of the biggest hospitals in Paris. They're always busy these days. People coming in and out, dead or alive. Most of the people lying in these beds won't survive the night. Every so often a nurse or doctor would ask me why I'm here. I tell them that I'm here to pay my respects. They normally then say not to take too long, otherwise the ill will give me a bug or something.

But I'm not leaving just yet. Besides, it's not like an angel can catch the flu is it? I stood by one of the patients beds where an old woman slept. Her curled shoulder length hair was originally black, although, most of it was either grey or white now. This woman was by far the eldest woman in the hospital. Her skin was cold and wrinkled like a creased shirt. She was barely breathing. Her face was so pale, it almost resembled a ghost. Her face reminded me of another, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Next to the woman's bed was a young girl. She had light brownish golden hair and chocolate brown eyes. I'd guess around seven or six years old. She was too short to climb onto the bed, so she stood by the side, holding onto the old woman's hand. She sniffed a couple of times, not taking her eyes off the old woman. It made me think, if this woman were to die, what would become of this child? The little girl looked at me for a second and then back at the old woman. "_Bonjour_." I said with a smile. The girl made a funny noise, too shy to say anything. I took another look at the old woman. "Is she your mother?" I asked.

The little girl shook her head. "She's my grandmother." She said. "The nurse said she might not make it tonight…"

I sighed. How tragic for a little girl to have to watch her own grandmother die. "Don't you have parents?"

"My mummy and daddy died. It's just me, my big brother and grandmother." She said, holding onto her grandmothers' hand just a little tighter.

There was a silence. I then asked, "What's your name sweetheart?"

"Amelia Prouvaire." She said with a sniffle. The poor thing had obviously been crying her eyes out. No child should have to suffer this way. "Who are you?"

"I'm Enjolras."

Amelia smiled. "Do you have a grandmother?"

"Well, no, but I have a father."

"Is he nice?"

I let out a small chuckle. "Of course." I then turned my attention to the old woman. "What's your grandmothers' name?"

"Rose Prouvaire." She said.

"Is she a good grandmother?"

Amelia nodded. "She takes care of me better than my mummy ever did. Grandmother is always smiling. She's a poet, like my big brother. She always writes about the good things in the world. I love my grandmother more than anything in the world." Amelia said, but as she spoke, a tear fell from her eye. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

I sighed and then held Amelia's hand. "Don't worry. Your grandmother's going to be just fine."

"How do you know?" Amelia asked.

"Because if this woman is as sweet and loving as you say she is, then god will save her. You need only ask." I said softly. I turned my head towards Rose and held one of her ice-cold hands. I gently graced her knuckles with a kiss and then gently placed her hand down. I then dug into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a slightly crumpled note. I handed it to Amelia and without another word, I left the hospital.

Amelia looked at the paper with a raised eyebrow. She unfolded the paper and read:

_May God the Father bless you, God the Son heal you, God the Holy Spirit give you strength. May God the holy and undivided Trinity guard your body, save your soul, and bring you safely to his heavenly country; where He lives and reigns forever and ever._

_God bless you,_

_Enjolras_

…

**To be continued (sorry, not much happens in this chapter)**

**Yes, Rose and Amelia are related to Jehan**

**Yes, Rose is going to live**

**Yes, THIS IS HOW IT ALL STARTS**


End file.
